


Life in Technicolor

by erynion



Series: The Origin of Love [2]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 126 Crew, Alex was a jerk, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakup, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e03 Texas Proud, Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Issues, Tarlos - Freeform, bar brawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erynion/pseuds/erynion
Summary: Ever since he got to Austin, T.K. only saw grey. It didn't feel bad at first. Grey was silent, grey was safe. But grey was boring, monotonous. Distant. Unreal. And it was up to him to starting seeing some color.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: The Origin of Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698676
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	1. Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an English native speaker and I don't have a beta, the mistakes are all mine (I triple-checked this before posting, so you will probably find some, lol). Sadly, those and the story are the only things I own.

**08.20 p.m.**

For the first time since he got to Austin, T.K. felt free as soon as his fist hit the other guy’s chin. Everyday it had felt like that movie, Groundhog Day. Get up, put out some fires, spend time with the 126, go home, sleep. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. An eternal loop of a constant fairytale that felt too good to be true, as if everything could blow up at any moment in front of you goddamn face. And it happened as soon as he had decided to go to Carlos’ home the other night, and it happened again when Judd, the perfect Texan, the arrogant firefighter, had decided to play Captain on him that morning. So after his shift, he had headed for the bar with one clear thing in mind: get some mineral water, get inside some people’s heads, break free, feel alive. And he was enjoying every minute of it.

Was he?

Somehow he found himself on the floor, with one arm wrapped around some guy’s neck while he punched the other one with his other hand. He had to take some hits too, but fortunately the other guys were not firefighters as he was, so his blows were far more solid and stronger. And angrier. Although his left temple hurt from one of the hits he had received from one of the guys.

He raised his head when he heard the sirens outside, and so did the other guys too. He moved from the guy’s chest so he was kneeling on the floor, sitting on his heels, when the police came in.

“Nobody move!”

T.K. sighed with relief when he didn’t see Carlos among the group. That was the last thing he needed that night. Knowing the drill, he raised his arms and put his hands behind his head, fingers interlocked, while he patiently waited for one of those cops to book him.

* * *

**10.30 p.m.**

Several phones at the station were ringing while T.K. waited at a desk, pressing an ice pack against his temple. If only those phones stopped ringing, his head wouldn’t hurt that much. He had been the one with the muscles in that fight, the definite winner, but two more of those punches and they would have knocked him out. He coughed, and frowned when his left side hurt. They had told him that he had no broken rib, but bruises hurt anyways.

He turned when he heard some steps behind him and didn’t have to wait too long to find out to whom they belonged too.

“Seriously?”

Un-freaking-believable. Him of all people. The last person he wanted to see, less than even Judd or his father right now. That was his goddamn luck.

“Austin is a small town, T.K. Or should I say Tyler Kennedy?”

“Ugh”, groaned T.K. He had always thought that his parents were high or drunk when they had chosen that name, because that was the only plausible explanation that came to his mind when he thought about why on Earth had they named him that.

“Bummer about getting arrested. People might find out your real name, which marks the first actual thing I’ve learned about you.”

“Isn’t your processing me, like, a conflict of interest or something?”, asked T.K., decided to leave the name-thing, and everything else, behind them.

“The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight. And since you blew a 0.0, we’re not even giving you drunk and disorderly.” Carlos roughly managed to unlock T.K.’s cuffs so that the young man could regain complete freedom of his limbs. “You’re free to go.”

T.K. didn’t move. He looked at Carlos both perplexed and confused.

“And what’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head.”

Carlos’ roughness felt so different from the quiet guy from the night before that T.K. was left speechless. All he could do was look at the other guy with shame because yes, he was right, and no, he didn’t need Carlos to tell him that, thank you very much.

“I’m not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you’re not into it, but you should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal.”

What can I say?, he thought. Did Carlos want to hear the truth? And more importantly, was he ready to get that same look of sadness, surprise and shame he got from his dad every time he did something that reckless? No, he was not. Instead, T.K. lowered his head, grabbed the evidence bag and retrieved his stuff in silence. He didn’t have much on him when they arrested him, just his wallet with some cash, his phone and the keys to the house.

“Got a little crud there, by the way.”

T.K. raised his head and took the tissue Carlos offered him, which he put carefully over his bruised lip. He noticed Carlos eyes on him, but he remained silent and didn’t look back.

“Other side.” T.K. moved the tissue where Carlos told him, but he soon found the tissue stolen from his hands by some tanned, muscular hands. “Stop. Just let me.”

T.K. watched helpless as Carlos placed the tissue on the right spot of his lip. He was so distracted that he didn’t even wince when he felt the pain, he just remained unmoving. He couldn’t stop looking into the other guy’s eyes: they were sweeter than chocolate, attentive, bright and caring. And filed with pain from the night before, he knew that. Two perfectly infinite bottomless pits, a real undoing for those who dare to look at them for too long.

And yet T.K. felt so lonely, and he hurt so much, that he couldn’t leave as he had done during the disastrous dinner. He sought for comfort in those eyes, for understanding, for warmth, for life. And yet the more he looked at him, the worse he felt – and his condition had little to do with just the night before.

But that moment of comfort ended as soon as Carlos removed his hand from T.K.’s lip. He threw the tissue to the bin and started ordering folders and reports that were piled up on his desk, oblivious to T.K’s presence. He looked so done with T.K. that the young man felt the need to say something, to apologize, to make the other man understand that he was not a jerk all the time, that that was not his real self, his natural being.

“I’m sorry I went crazy on you the other night.”

“I’m a cop. I’m used to crazy.”

Carlos voice left no place for arguments. T.K. sighed. He was afraid that Carlos would need more than that, but he had just hoped it would be enough. Deep down, he knew what he needed to say but it was so hard to put it into words, to… admit it.

“Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed.”

“You mean with me?”

“No.” T.K. felt hurt when the cop didn’t even look at him. He lowered his head and looked at his knees, ashamed of himself, of his past, of every stupid, dangerous thing he had done in his life. “I mean with substances.”

“Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne. I’m such an idiot. I’m… I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s fine. Okay?” T.K. interrupted Carlos. He didn’t need his pity or his compassion. And he definitely didn’t need to see that guilt in those puppy eyes. “I mean, ever since I’ve gotten here it’s just... it’s just gray, and I just feel numb all the time.” He looked again at Carlos, desperate for the cop to understand him. “I guess I just... I wanted to feel something.”

T.K.’s eyes stang and he found himself unable to look at Carlos anymore, who was looking at him with wet eyes, as if he was about to cry too. That was definitely his cue to leave. Noticing Carlos’ inquisitive eyes on him, T.K. got up from the chair unceremoniously and put his stuff in the pockets of his pants before turning his back to the other guy and getting ready to go. But a voice behind his back stopped him when he was about to leave the desk behind.

“Judging by that lip, I’d say mission accomplished.”

Really, dude?, thought T.K. He turned and looked at the cop irritated and unbelieving.

“You’re really busting my balls right now?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

Although Carlos’ face had been serious, there had been a slight amusement too in his last statement, evidenced by his playful eyes. His smile slightly curved too at the sight of Carlos’, but he left the station silently without saying anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comments!


	2. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. had needed a high that didn't involve any substances after his massive mess with Carlos and his argument with Judd. At the police station, he had tried to make Carlos understand. But had it been enough? Or was it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text messages are in italics to distinguish them from the regular dialogues.  
> As always, mistakes are mine!

**02.30 a.m.**

T.K. laid in his bed with his eyes fully opened, unable to sleep. Everything in the house was dark, and he could hear his father’s snores in the room right next to his. His heart beat fast. He envied his father so much, his calm, his strength, his innate ability to always do the right thing, to give one hundred and one percent of himself every single day. And to go to bed and fall sleep within minutes. He just wished he could be more like his father.

He rolled on his side to grab his phone from the nightstand and sighed when he saw no notifications on the lock screen. He knew he had really screwed things up, and his decision to come clean to Carlos had come too late. He just knew that.

His eyes stayed on the dark screen for a moment. He should text him. He should apologize (again) and he should offer him his lamest excuse. Then Carlos would read that. He would be hurt for some time. He probably wouldn’t even reply for some days. But then the Latino would forgive him. He would answer him casually, as if T.K. had written him five minutes ago, not five days (maybe four?). He would send many of those emojis with the funny faces, which would make him laugh. And they would tease each other for hours until Carlos would invite him to his place again, for a real dinner. And T.K. would accept this time. He would eat a delicious, homemade red snapper, he would drink some refreshing mineral water and for dessert he would have some tasty Tiramisu. They would both laugh at each other jokes. And, in the end, they would hook up and they would wake up in each other’s arms the following morning. And they would probably hook up again before going to work.

T.K. blinked. His phone screen was still black. No new notifications had come. Everything was silent. He sighed and left the phone in the nightstand before shifting his position in the bed and trying to get some sleep. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

* * *

**05.50 a.m.**

T.K. yawned as he carefully sipped his cup of hot coffee. Just as he had expected, he had spent almost the whole night wide awake, twisting and turning in bed, unable to stop thinking about that night, and the previous one, and virtually every other night in his life where he had made stupid mistakes like the most recent ones. Even his father had noticed something was wrong with him and, realizing his son was not opening up to him, had advised him to try his lotions and some fancy infusion before bed for a better sleep. But T.K. had ignored him just like any other day. He was not Owen. Lotions and infusions were not for him. Instead, he found the best therapy in physical exercise, in feeling useful. So he had left the house early and had jogged to the station, hoping that the early morning’s air would wake him up.

It hadn’t.

He yawned again when he received a new message on his phone. When he looked at the screen, he couldn’t help but smile relieved.

“ _Morning. Early shift today. You up?_ ”

At least he didn’t have to wait too many days to hear from him. T.K. didn’t even wait to reply.

“ _Hi. Already at the station. Early shift too._ ”

He saw Carlos online and waited for his reply. And waited. And waited. Until Carlos disappeared from the chat screen. T.K. took another sip from his coffee and typed a quick text.

“ _I’m sorry for the other day._ ”

Carlos was online again.

“ _I know._ ”

“ _I was a dick._ ”

“ _I know._ ”

T.K.’s smile curved. He finished his coffee and was about to type something when the alarm wailed. He put the phone in his pocket and run to the garage, where the rest of the team was waiting. He tried his best to ignore Judd’s arrogant mug.

“A house is burning on Oakhill Boulevard. Two eighty-year old are trapped inside. EMS are already on their way.”, said Owen as he urged the members of the crew to get inside the trucks. “Come on, come on!”

* * *

**6.00 p.m.**

T.K.’s shoulders slumped as soon as he was wearing his regular clothes again. He was feeling too tired, as if he had been carrying the world on his back the whole day. And it was just because of a stupid sleepless night: he was healthy, he didn’t use anymore and he exercised a couple hours every day. And he was in a relative good place. He didn’t even want to remember how low were his lowest lows.

He grabbed his stuff before leaving the station and checked his phone before putting it inside his pocket. He was surprised to find several new notifications from Carlos.

“ _But I forgive you._ ”

“ _Talk later?_ ”

“ _Have a nice day._ ”

“ _I heard about the fire. That must have been quite a scare. Thanks God everyone is okay._ ”

“ _Do you have plans for tonight?_ ”

T.K. opened his eyes, surprised to read the last text. He typed a quick answer without giving it much thought.

“ _Anything in mind?_ ”

It wasn’t long until Carlos was online again.

“ _Bar at seven? We can line dance again, you did great the other night._ ”

T.K. laughed loudly.

“What’s so funny?”, asked Marjan, who was walking in front of T.K. on her way out of the station.

“Just… a meme.”, replied T.K. with a smile, showing her his phone with the screen turned off. Marjan nodded understandingly.

“See you at the bar tonight?”

Voices from inside the station replied to her affirmatively, and her inquisitive eyes rested last, inquiringly, on T.K. 

“Is Judd going?" Marjan rolled her eyes and T.K. sighed and waved a hand, visibly defeated. "Yeah, okay, see you there.”

Marjan left with a wide smile on her face and T.K. checked his phone again. He was glad to see Carlos was still online, probably waiting for an answer.

“ _I think we’d better play darts, cowboy. See you at seven._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!


End file.
